Rocky Reunion
by Tarafina
Summary: The last person Chloe expected to see was standing close enough to touch. :Chloe/Dean:


**Title**: Rocky Reunion  
**Category**: Smallville/Supernatural (Crossover)  
**Rating**: T  
**Genre**: Romance/Angst  
**Pairing**: Chloe/Dean  
**Prompt**: "It's not what I thought it would be." by brisbanite  
**Word Count**: 825  
**Summary**: The last person Chloe expected to see was standing close enough to touch.

**_Rocky Reunion  
_**-1/1-

When she opened the door to stop the incessant knocking, the last person she ever expected to be standing in front of her was close enough to touch. Within seconds she had a knife out and pointed directly to his jugular. Her face pinched in hatred. "Who are you?" She looked him up and down. "_What _are you?"

He licked his lips. "Chloe... It's me. Really. I..." He sighed. "It's just me."

She shook her head violently, tightening her grip on the knife. "Dean Winchester is dead and you... you're either some demon riding his body or something else. So you better cough up the truth before I slit your throat." She wasn't kidding. He looked like Dean; even _smelled _like him. But she got the call from Sam, she visited the grave, she did her research. Dean was gone; for good.

His jaw twitched. "You can cut my throat if you really want to, sweetheart. But the mess won't be pretty and when you realize it really is me, you're gonna be a helluva lot more messed up." He reached toward her, pausing for a second when she flinched and then his arms wrapped around her, fingers running up her spine, slow and delicate. He stared into her eyes, searching for that sign of recognition.

She shook her head. "You might have his memories," she whispered brokenly.

"They're _my _memories, Chlo. I'm... I'm back." He half-smiled, lifting a shoulder.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Wrenching herself away from him, she dropped the knife and whirled around to stomp into her apartment, sparing him a dark look over her shoulder. "Not possible!" she said through clenched teeth. "You were _gone_. Dead, buried and burning in hell." She wiped the tears from her face angrily.

He closed the door behind him and stuffed his hands in his pockets as if readying himself to hear a long rant.

"I held out hope," she breathed, wringing her hands. "But you weren't coming back. Sam said... He..." She shook her head. "You _told _me to move on! You told me you were _dying_, that there was no way to save you!"

"I didn't think there was. I..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

She bit her lip. "I said _yes_, Dean. I told Jimmy I'd marry him despite... despite being in love with _you_."

He swallowed tightly, nodding slowly. "So I'm talking to Mrs. Jimmy Olsen or...?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

He looked up at her, stared a long while as if taking her all in. "It's not what I thought it would be," he admitted, smiling sadly. "Guess I thought I'd show up and you'd..."

"Run into your arms?" She stared at him levelly. "I probably would have."

His jaw clenched. "So you love him then? This Olsen kid?"

Her expression became guarded. "Yeah, I... I do."

He stared at her, brow furrowed, lips pursed. "You're _in love _with him?"

She looked away. "What's with all the questions? Yes, I'm... I love him, all right?" She threw her hands up. "You don't just come back from the dead and grill me about my love life."

He half-smirked. "Yeah, well... When you come back from hell, you don't exactly follow protocol. You kinda just wanna find the people that you care about, try and, uh, start over, I guess."

She didn't answer for a long moment but finally turned, eyeing him wearily. "So... How did you..." She motioned toward his body. "It's been months and you look just as alive as ever..."

He rocked back and forth on his feet. "You believe in angels?"

She half-frowned, half-smiled. "If this is some _cheesy _pick-up line..."

He chuckled lightly. "Nah, this is as real as it gets."

"Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously."

Her eyes widened. "Wow. Angels..." She tipped her head. "They do _know _your history right?" she teased.

He smirked. "Yeah, well, if they based it all on that, you're goin' to hell too, sweetheart."

She blushed slightly, looking away as her lips twitched with a smirk.

Dean cleared his throat, looking around uncomfortably. "It's, uh, gettin' late and... I guess the fiancé should be back soon, so..." He reached back for the door handle. "It was... It was good seein' ya." He nodded, turning away.

"Don't go," she blurted out.

He paused.

And suddenly she was running across the apartment, jumping into his arms and burying her face in his neck, clinging to him tightly. God, he smelled like freedom, like life on the road and that sting of love that warmed her from head to toe with one simple smirk. She swallowed the sob in her throat and ran her fingers through his hair, inhaled his scent deeply, reassured herself it wasn't a dream. She shook her head. "Don't ever go again."

He sighed with relief, wrapping her up in his arms. "I won't." He closed his eyes and hugged her tight. "I won't."


End file.
